


One Amaranthine Morning

by ChibiStarr



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiStarr/pseuds/ChibiStarr
Summary: Liam Caron decides to buy Velanna a better, beautiful staff in hopes to impress her.





	One Amaranthine Morning

Fereldan smelled like wet dogs. it was horrible, especially overlaid with the other smells of Amaranthine: sweat, smoke, and desperation. The fear was so thick in the air that Liam could nearly taste it but that didn't stop him from gliding effortlessly through the markets in search of what he was looking for. Val Royeaux smelled like perfume and coffee and baked things; it always seemed to be that somewhere in the capital of Orlais someone was baking a cake of some sort. Here, the refugees huddled outside the city while smoke from the smithies mixed with the oily smoke from the taverns and made the sky hazy and gray.  
  
Liam was used to people giving him only a glance at best. Here they gave him a berth as he came through; obviously they knew he was at least an outsider, but the second he opened his mouth to speak their looks became either openly frightened or hostile and they cleared away from him as if he had just pulled a severed darkspawn head from his bag. Fereldans, honestly. Too stuck in their stubborn pasts to understand what was important. That was what nearly got them all killed during the Blight.  
  
The merchant, on the other hand, didn't seem to care one whit about his accent and cheerfully showed him his selection of staves from among his various collection of magical items. He had heard stories of Amaranthine's market from the locals, but even they were not good enough to describe the splendor of the arrangements laid out before him. Apparently being the new center of a refugee crisis did nothing to damage the quality of Amaranthine's stock in the slightest. Some of the staves were little more than glorified branches, the wood twisted into what was clearly an unnatural shape through magical means. Others were the manufactured, typical staves one might see from the Circles, ordinary in almost every way.   
  
Yet there were even others. Things that the merchant swore up and down were owned by great heroes of the tales, by magisters who used to rule this land and conveniently left all of their belongings behind, even one colorful tale of a staff smuggled out of the basement of the Tower of Magi in Lake Calenhad. Amusing to say the least, although Liam would have given the man at least some credit where it was due. A few of these objects were clearly old and had no doubt been owned by someone else. The ancient Archon Melos, though, he very much doubted.  
  
He tried a few of them, picking them up and testing the feeling in his hands before quickly putting them back. He hated staves. The power in some of them felt almost alive and made his teeth buzz. How in the world mages handled them all the time baffled him to no end. His search kept getting narrower and narrower, until he had coolly and carefully slimmed his selection down to just three. He was trying to decide between a staff that looked for all the world like a branch that had been turned to metal and a beautiful silverite-lyrium curling staff when Anders was suddenly there next to him.  
  
"You know, I never took you as the apostate type, Commander," the mage joked as he watched Liam eye his choices critically. Ser Pounce-a-lot was in his arms and eyeing the collection of weapons just as carefully while Anders stroked him. "But I must admit that disguise is phenomenal. Not even the Templars--"  
  
"Hold these," Liam cut him off, nearly shoving the staves into his hands.  
  
"W-what?" Anders stuttered, so caught off guard that he automatically reached out to grab them, releasing Ser Pounce-a-lot in the process. Luckily the cat jumped onto the table, but the glare he gave at Anders told him that this treatment was not okay in the slightest. "Hey, don't be angry Ser Pounce-a-lot! Why did you do that?" This last one he directed at Liam.  
  
"Which one feels better to you?" Liam asked, stroking his beard a little.  
  
Anders at least looked confused. "Feels better. You mean the staves, right?" He looked between them, seeming utterly lost.  
  
"Of course I do. Which one?"  
  
"Well, this I suppose." Anders wiggled the silverite and lyrium staff. "You know the price says thirty soverei--Hey!" He protested as Liam snatched them back and presented the staff to the merchant.  
  
"This one," he said simply, laying down the glowing, swirling staff of silvery blue. He began to fish in his bag for coins.  
  
Anders had to chase down Ser Pounce-a-lot but a few moments later he was back. "Is that for me?" he asked. Always so blunt and to the point. "Not that I would mind terribly, but I like the staff I have very much. I don't need--"  
  
"It's for Velanna," Liam interrupted, scowling as the feeling pulled in his veins again.   
  
"Aaahh a girl, I gotcha." Anders grinned knowingly. "If she'll take it."  
  
Liam looked down at the staff in his hands, smiling a little. Despite all of Velanna's protests of humans and their barbaric customs, she still very much enjoyed beauty and all of the lovely little things that humans made. She had taken a recent shine to human robes, after all. All of their soft colors and decorative patterns had a way of touching her heart, all meaningless and done for the sole sake of making something more pleasing to the eye. Just like how he saw her planting flowers in the Vigil's courtyards and enchanting them to grow when she thought no one was looking. "She will," he promised, looking around. "Now where is that dwarf and Nathaniel?"  
  
"Oh, at the tavern. You should _see_ the chaos Oghren is causing with his--"  
  
He had to sigh just the slightest bit as he quickly headed to where Anders was pointing. Maybe he should have just come alone instead.  
  



End file.
